Trapped
by PurplePatchwork
Summary: He was trapped in the cold, empty room. A bird flying too close to the sun will get its wings burnt, they say. But a bird who can't fly will wither away all the same.


**You can interpret this however you want. Not all imaginary has to be taken literally.**

xoxox

He sat alone in the empty room.

No windows, no carpet, no furniture, no colours.

Only a single, leaden door.

It wasn't even locked. Never had been.

Yet he was undeniably trapped.

"Help," he mumbled, softly, hesitantly, not wanting to disturb the cool stone walls, not feeling like he deserved to.

How to describe what he was feeling? This emptiness, this unexplainable sadness, this inability to stand up and move? How to explain it to the people who came visiting him each day?

They never came inside. Were unable to, just like Alfred couldn't leave. Standing just outside the door, Alfred heard the first visitor's breathing.

"Me again. I… I see you're still in there."

A pause.

"Won't you please come out? It's been quite a while now. Your brother's been asking for you. So has your father. I… I miss you."

Alfred didn't answer, staring equally as apathetically at the four by four grey square as he had before the other's arrival.

He knew he was hurting them. Of course he knew. But their pain only helped in further trapping him in, further pulling him down.

The key was right there in his hand, but he just didn't have the strength to use it.

"Was it because I got mad? It was, wasn't it? Well, I'm not mad anymore. I won't scold you if you come out. So please."

His visitor didn't understand. Of course he didn't. Nobody did. How could they, if even he had no idea what had come over him?

Everything had been perfectly fine before. Living his life just like everyone else, riding the winds like a free bird. Then somehow he got shot down, lost his ability to fly.

Now he was stuck. Not here, not there.

Lost.

"Come on Alfred, it's been long enough!" the other seethed. He was angry again. He always got angry at Alfred.

He used to care. He used to hate it when people got mad.

Now he just felt empty, and so, soooooooooooo tired.

"Damnit Alfred! Why are you doing this to us?!"

A hard thud against the door, after which a string of cursewords followed.

"I, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. Matthew made some pancakes. I'll leave them at the door, okay? Please eat them. Don't throw them away again. I… I'll come back tomorrow."

And then finally, blissful silence.

Blissful, much wanted, deafening silence.

Pushing down on his body, closing in on him, like a tiny bird in a huge cage.

Flightless, scared, desperate.

Even more emptiness came when he took another look at the key.

He knew how to use keys. Who didn't? You just put them in the lock, twisted, and voila! Door was open.

Why did that simple action seem so impossibly tiresome right now?

Footsteps. His second regular visitor. And his last for today.

There used to be more, but after a few months they just stopped coming.

"Alfred? I'm here to bring you your homework. I know you probably won't make it, but I'll leave it here."

Papers rustling, a woman clearing her throat.

"Please consider at least taking a look at it. You're a smart student, I know you can still pick up your grades if you start now. I don't want you to fail because of some minor issues."

Minor issues. Hah. She had no idea.

"I'm still waiting for your participation in class. See you soon, okay?"

Tick tick tick, away went the high heels.

Tick tick tick like a clock, tick tick tick like his pulse, a fluttering heartbeat as that of a scared animal.

Scared of what? There was nothing to be scared about. He was safe here, sitting nicely in his dark cage.

No light. No people. No threats. No danger.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Then why did he still feel like he was suffocating?

Footsteps. More footsteps. Why were there footsteps? His jar of visitors had already been emptied. No one else cared to check on him anymore.

So who…?

This newcomer said nothing as he stopped right in front of the door. Alfred could imagine him or her breathing, warmth radiating from their body.

"Who are you?" he asked softly, quietly, more as an automatic reaction than out of actual curiosity.

No words left the stranger's mouth. He simply heard a large body sliding down a wall, a heavy thud as it hit the ground.

Louder this time, "Who are you?"

He didn't want newcomers in his cage. Life was already far too confusing.

He had already hurt Arthur, Francis, Matthew, Kiku, Gilbert, and just about everyone he knew.

A newcomer just meant more exhaustion, more pain, more hearts to break.

"Please go," he said, voice hoarse as he hadn't used it much lately. Hoarse, like the dry cawing of a crow.

 _Someone give this birds his wings back, because he can't do it himself._

"Go," he repeated, this time with a little more force.

For the first time in months he felt a flare of anger.

Didn't this stranger understand there was nothing to see here? What, did he just come to gape at Alfred the flightless bird? Was this some kind of a joke to him?!

The anger turned into strength, coursing through his muscles, pushing him up and off the ground.

He wobbled a bit, unused to having his legs support his weight after all that time of sitting and lying down. Unused to the feeling of standing on his own two legs, holding himself up as he slowly made his way towards the door.

The key was gripped tightly in his sweaty hand. He was going to go out there, tell that stranger to piss off, and then he could finally be alone again. Safely in his empty cage.

Jamming the key into the lock he pulled and pulled, groaning when the door refused to give in. But he wasn't going to let it have its way, he was a man on a mission!

With a huge amount of effort he succeeded in creating a small crack, just wide enough for him to slither his way through.

Panting and dizzy, he slid through the opening, gathering air in his lungs to shout at the intruder.

But when the tall pale stranger smiled up at him, he paused.

He was holding a sunflower in his hands, cradling the piece of flora to his chest as if it were a newborn. Gently, tenderly, lovingly.

"What are you doing?" Alfred breathed, panting, absolutely bedazzled and perplexed.

The other's smile grew.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Why?"

A breathless laugh.

"Why? Why not? Was that not exactly what you were doing?"

And then it dawned upon him.

He was out.

Out of his cage.

Out.

His initial reaction was panic.

Oh no, he was out, no longer safe between the four stone walls, exposed, vulnerable, painpainpain-

But then he realized something.

The pain didn't come. Nor did the harassment, or the war, or the shouting or screaming or fighting he had feared.

There was just as much emptiness out here as there had been in there.

Only here, he didn't have to stare at the same leaden door, day in, day out.

Out here, he had a choice.

Out here, he was free.

…

Now what was he supposed to do?

"What is your name?"

Alfred turned back when he heard the other speak. He was still smiling, softly caressing his beloved flower.

He seemed so…

Open. Inviting. Happy.

But not entirely.

Maybe he too had lost his wings?

"My name is Alfred. What's yours?"

A chuckle, as the stranger beckoned for him to come sit down beside him.

"I am Ivan. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, little bird."


End file.
